our corner

our corner

note from self

search the net
no, not that one
Indra’s net instead
our corner’s ablaze
brilliant jewels abound
their facets dazzle—
one kindles another
as infectious as Covid
and maybe as lethal
but oh! such a difference
a variant that’s healthy—
a new kind of deadly
calamitous to suffering
malignant for meanness
unwinds confusion
overflows with mercy
let it spread
let it spread
let it spread

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

what is

what is
note from self

in the quiet
of the morning
no souls awake
she sits in reverie
of what is—
single lamp
lights up the sink
desktop detritus, cups
and cast-off shoes
the bed’s atumble
the chair misplaced
and yet—
pure and clear
eternal and infinite
knowing shines

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

the pull

the pull
note from self

it’s been lifelong
this pull in a
single direction
home
her true north—
yes, life distracted
or did it point?
disabled child
discordant unions
broken business
all corralled her
to attend with care
draw inside
probe underneath
and ferret the thread
of what’s true

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

fragrance

fragrance
note to self

like jasmine
like frangipani
or the luscious
scent of your lover
the big field is
inviting you home

daffodil bouquet
fresh puppy spice
or the nape of your
infant son’s neck
the big field is
beguiling you home

turn toward the tang
trustworthy and true
follow the trail
the big field is calling
come home come home
come home

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

feel around emptiness

feel around emptiness
note from self

she closes her eyes
feels around in there
inside, sensing for edges
borders or confines
—finds none
it’s lively, wide open
empty and clear
brilliant, awake
vast and unending
and plainly not personal
she opens her lids
sees ten-trillion things
not now not yet but soon
snaps her eyes shut
to return to that calm
the big field of knowing

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

nothing but grace

nothing but grace
note from self

grace pours forth
limning the manifest world
it gleams in kind words
and is there behind rage
cloaked within grief and
concealed inside madness
it fringes the leaves and
spills out from wrensong
stands tall in sequoias
and runs free in rivers
it shines in dogs’ eyes
and underpins breath
nothing, nothing but grace

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

glimpse what cannot be glimpsed

glimpse what cannot be glimpsed
note from self

it came in a flash
during a hot-tub soak
the sighting of what
cannot be seen—
what saw through
far vaster than she
immense and impartial
unconcerned and aware
out of time and eternal
it sniffed soft rain
heard deer bed down
near the rill, made
no note when the
owl nabbed a vole
listened and watched
with her ears and eyes—
she lay in the heat
steam misting above
allowed it to have her
this presence that
cannot be glimpsed

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

doom-ridden chatter

doom-ridden chatter
note from self

she watches her mind
fill with doom-ridden
chatter—fascism
climate and fire
what to do?
what to do? is the
patter that plays

drops beneath fright
rests in the field
steady, abiding and safe
no matter what’s done
the story unfurls just as
it is—a rush, a torrent
a flume

from here
finds her north star
grabs an amiable hand
rides the rough wave
the only way through
what to do? what to do?
falls behind

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

whiff of fragrance

whiff of fragrance
note from self

sniff the air
do you catch
the fragrance? the
scent of not-two?
follow your nose for
a worthwhile prize—
no one and no thing
only the splendid
expanse of
pure knowing
open and aware

the bloodhound
single-pointedly
follows the whiff
nothing exists
but bouquet—be a
bloodhound for truth

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.

not once

not once
note from self

not once
has she deserted
the nave within
that sacred space
where quiet rules—
oh yes, misled
got lost in the dark
took an odd path
stumbled and fell
dusted herself off
refound her lodestar
set out again—but she
never abandoned the nave

2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.